


Second Thoughts

by scribblemoose



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-02
Updated: 2003-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose





	Second Thoughts

"Still no luck, huh?"

Quistis turned to give Irvine a long look over her shoulder. "I suppose you think you can get this thing started just like that?"

Irvine smiled her a slow, lazy smile. "I'm known for having the right touch," he said.

Selphie prodded him in the ribs. "Bad boy," she giggled. "You shouldn't tease Quisty when she's having a hard time."

Quistis got out of the car, slamming the door behind her, and went to open the hood.

She fiddled with the spark plugs as if she knew what she was doing, hoping that a bit of authority was all the stupid engine needed to make it fire up again. It was pure fluke that she noticed a loose lead dangling vaguely near the ignition. With a little grin of satisfaction she reconnected it and went back to the car.

Irvine and Selphie were half undressed on the back seat, doing a lot of groaning.

"Cut that out," snapped Quistis. "I swear I'll have murdered the pair of you before we get to Balamb."

"Aw, Quisty, just because it didn't work out with you and that Trabian doctor," said Selphie, hastily zipping up her dress. "Don't take it out on us."

"I wasn't," said Quistis, blushing. "And you can stop pulling faces, Kinneas. He was very nice."

"Except for the wife," said Irvine.

"How did you know he was married?" Quistis asked, shocked.

"Um… his wife was kind of a friend of mine," he said. "From way back," he added hastily, as Selphie cracked him across the knuckles with the handle of her nunchaka.

"Oh. Well, you could have told me."

"Sorry Quisty. If I'd known you were serious about him…"

Quistis sighed, fiddling with the car key. "I wasn't," she admitted. "Not really."

Irvine and Selphie looked meaningfully at each other.

Quistis put the key in the ignition and started the car. It fired first time and she smiled to herself, while the other two whooped enthusiastically.

"Do you suppose Squall has got himself a girlfriend while we've been away?" asked Selphie, as they resumed their journey down the road to Balamb.

"He didn't say anything in his e-mails," said Irvine. "But then he doesn't usually, except for telling me whether he's beaten his record for grat slaughter, or how many inventories Xu has had him order. I'm fairly certain something as momentous as a new girlfriend would have been added in some kind of a p.s., though."

"It's been six months now since Rinoa went back to Deling," said Selphie. "Surely he's over her by now?"

"I don't know," said Irvine, staring out of the window at the soft colours of Balamb Garden, dimly visible now in the late afternoon haze. "It was pretty tough. I mean, it's one thing to lose a girl to another man, but to lose her to politics…"

"Stupid girl," muttered Quistis under her breath.

"I think it's kinda romantic," said Selphie, clasping her nunchaka to her chest. "Wanting to save the world, and bring about peace and all. It's a shame Squall couldn't have helped, really."

"Squall doesn't do peace," said Quistsis, shortly. "He's the head of a private army, for fuck's sake. We don't all have the luxury of peace."

"It takes all sorts, Quisty," said Irvine, placidly. "Rinoa's always been very idealistic. They just weren't suited. He'll find someone else eventually. Someone a bit more down to earth. More… grounded."

"I think we should fix him up with someone," said Selphie. " Hey, what about a double date? Xu maybe? They work together and all, and you couldn't get more down to earth. She could smooth out a few wrinkles. The boy must be gagging for it by now. What d'you think, Quisty?"

"I think you should leave him alone," Quistis snapped. "Not everyone feels the need to fuck like bunnies all day, like the two of you seem to."

Irvine and Selphie exchanged a knowing look.

"Besides," Quistis added, "I think Xu's gay."

"But there must be_ someone_," persisted Selphie. "You sure you haven't got any ideas, Quisty?"

Quistis just kept driving.

* * * * * * *

Squall wiped his gunblade off, writing the number '271' on a little chart on the wall.

Not bad, for a Thursday.

He put Lionheart away in its case and wandered to his cramped bathroom, pulling off his T-shirt as he went, wincing at the amount of Grat innards that seemed to have got over his clothing and - he checked with tentative fingers - damnit, in his hair as well.

He turned on the shower, and finished stripping while he waited for the water to run hot.

271.

If he was a killer, like Rinoa said, at least he was a good one.

That sounded pathetic, he realised. Measuring your worth by the number of insignificant, smelly little monsters you could kill in an hour. But then, he was pathetic. Self-obsessed, closed-off and pathetic.

No wonder she'd left him.

He stepped into the shower, his powerful body shuddering under the sudden shock of the hot water. He braced himself, palms flat on the tile, head lowered so that the jet of water hit the base of his skull, pounding the top of his spine.

He remembered that Irvine and the others were due back from Trabia today, and realised he'd missed them. He could remember a time, a few years ago, when he liked being alone. Thrived on it. Well, maybe not thrived, exactly, but got by, definitely. Then Ultimecia had come along, and all of a sudden he had friends and family, and a girlfriend…

He'd really loved her.

It had taken Irvine months to persuade him not to shut down again, and even now he harboured little fantasies about going somewhere different, starting up a new life where he could be friendless and alone again. Except he was Squall Leonhart, saver-of-worlds and leader of Balamb Garden, and he couldn't run away. Ever.

Not like Rinoa.

He still resented the way she'd kept her continued involvement with the Forest Owls a secret from him. He didn't believe her when she told him it was so that he wouldn't be compromised. Well, maybe he did, but he still resented it.

He missed her. He missed her laughter, the way she teased him out of his stupid moods, the way she felt in his arms, the soft ocean smell of her hair.

He envied her the luxury of being able to do what she believed in, of being able to escape.

He straightened up, reached for the shower gel and lathered himself swiftly, taking no interest, let alone pride, in his strong, leanly muscled body. He shampooed his hair, so long now that it brushed his shoulders in ragged strands that he'd not bothered to cut since Rinoa left, apart from occasional hacks to his fringe to keep it, at least theoretically, out of his eyes.

He emerged from the shower with a towel tied round his slim hips, scrubbing at his unruly hair with another, and went to find something to wear. He had a horrible suspicion that they'd want to go to Balamb to eat and drink. There might even be dancing.

He suppressed a shudder, and pulled a pair of jeans and a blue, button-down shirt out of his closet. If they were going out, the more ordinary he looked the better. It would keep the groupies away, and make it less noticeable when he slipped away at the first opportunity. He felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that he was already plotting to escape from his friends when they hadn't even arrived back yet, but quickly choked it down, along with any excitement he might, for some reason, have been beginning to feel.

Once he'd dressed and pulled a comb through his hair, he selected a brightly coloured pencil from his desk drawer, and went back to the chart on the wall.

Slowly and carefully, he coloured in the bar graph for the day's grat count.

* * * * * * *

Quistis hoped that no-one could tell how fast her heart was racing, and for once was grateful for Irvine and Selphie's exuberance. All the time they were hugging a reluctant Squall and an equally exuberant Zell, no-one was looking at her and noticing how flustered she was.

Squall was wearing perfectly-fitting jeans and a soft-looking shirt, and his hair had grown, even in the six short weeks they'd been in Trabia. He gave a little smile at something Irvine said, and although it swiftly vanished, almost as if he'd caught himself and deliberately wiped it from his face, for the moment it was there it lit his eyes.

She felt a little grubby and distinctly frumpy in her uniform pants and jacket, and suspected that she had car oil smeared across one cheek.

"Hey Quistis," he said, in his quiet, private voice, so different to the authoritative tone he used in public.

"Hey," she smiled at him, and tried not to look foolish when he gave her a little smile back, like he had to Irvine, albeit just as fleeting.

She felt like a silly groupie, and she hated it.

"I'm going to get changed," she said, self-consciously hooking a loose tangle of hair behind her ear. "I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Not before I get a hug," said Zell reproachfully, flinging his arms around her neck. "Everything okay, then? The new SeeDs in the new Garden all in place and raring to go?"

"Yeah." She hugged him back before gently disentangling herself from his affection, just as anxious to escape as she was pleased to see him.

"Hey, Quisty," said Selphie, ducking out of Irvine's grasp, "let's get ready together. We need some girly time, after the mission and all."

Quistis frowned. There was something funny going on here. She would have laid money on Selphie and Irvine slinking off by themselves as soon as they got back. They hadn't been able to take their hands off each other all the way home.

Selphie was up to something.

"Come on," Selphie had already hooked an arm through hers. "We'll see you later, boys." She gave Irvine a knowing wink.

Selphie was _definitely_ up to something.

* * * * * * *

"You absolutely _can't_ wear that."

"Why not?" Quistis retrieved her favourite long skirt and black polo-neck top from the floor where Selphie had dismissively slung them. "What's wrong with it?"

Selphie gave her a stern look over her shoulder, still rummaging in Quistis' closet. "In a word, boring," she said.

"Why can't I be boring?" protested Quistis. "And, actually, boring? It's not boring! Look, orange! Not boring!"

"Ha!" snorted Selphie derisively. "Gods, Quisty, you must have _something_ in here… I'd lend you something of mine but you're so tall… ah. Aaahhh. Ah-ha. This is it."

She reverently pulled out a shimmer of blood red satin, and offered it to Quistis, eyes gleaming. "Here you go."

"Oh, no." Quistis shook her head, clasping her hands behind her back rather than take the dress from Selphie. "Not that one. No, that's for… it was in a sale. It was a mistake, it doesn't suit me, it's too short and…" She felt suddenly vulnerable, standing there in her underwear while Selphie took command of her closet. "Besides, it wouldn't go with my boots and…"

"You've got those black heels, yeah? The little strappy ones Edea gave you last birthday?"

"Yes, but… no! No, Selphie, really, I couldn't. Ever. No."

Selphie pouted. "Okay, you don't have to wear it tonight. Just put it on, so I can see you in it? Go on, I'm curious. Humour me. I've never seen you in anything… interesting. Please?"

It was impossible to resist Selphie when she was like this. In fact it was pretty much impossible to resist Selphie at all, she had an uncanny knack of getting her own way whatever. Quistis snatched the dress from her grumpily, and pulled it over her head.

It floated down her body like water, settling smoothly over her curves, flattering the swell of her breasts, showing off her firm, toned body to perfection.

She fiddled awkwardly with the spaghetti straps over her shoulders, peering anxiously at one exposed knee. "See? It's too tight and it's all asymmetrical, the left hand side's a nice length but it's cut up to the thigh this side and my legs are so… what?"

Selphie was gazing at her with slightly misty eyes, her hands clasped in front of her chest in delight. "Oh Quisty, you're so beautiful!"

"Don't be silly." Quistis dipped her head, hiding her blushing face behind her damp hair. "It makes me look fat."

Selphie shook her head emphatically. "No. Not fat. Definitely not fat. Gorgeous. Absolutely, drop dead gorgeous. Can I do your hair? Please let me?"

Quistis backed away, shaking one trembling finger at Selphie as she went. "Oh no. I'm not wearing it tonight. I'm _not_. It was just to show you, is all, I couldn't possibly… ow." There was a thud as she backed into her dresser, knocking a pile of books to the floor.

"Okay," said Selphie, far, far too easily. "Tell you what, you just keep it on while I do your hair and make up, and we'll see, okay?"

Quistis slumped onto the end of her bed and gave herself up to Selphie's ministrations, knowing she was defeated.

* * * * * * *

"So how've you been, man? Really?" Irvine set a bottle of beer down in front of him, another in the space where Zell had been sitting until a minute ago, and took a long swig of his own as he sat down next to his friend.

"Fine," said Squall, picking at the label on the chilled bottle.

"And again," said Irvine, "how have you been?"

Squall sighed. "Better," he said. "I think."

"How many grats today, Squall?"

"Two hundred and seventy one!" said Squall, his eyes lit suddenly with excitement. "I think I've worked out how to kill ten at once every time. If I don't bother to shoot until I've got them all lined up and then… what?" He caught the disapproving slant to Irvine's eyebrows. "What?"

"We talked about this," said Irvine. "Remember?"

Squall's shoulders slumped a little. "I can't help it, Irvine," he said in a small voice. "It helps."

"Does it really? Or is it a sad little pastime to stop you getting out and meeting people?"

"I meet people all the time," said Squall. "Too fucking often, if you ask me. All day, there's people, wanting me to do stuff and decide things, and ask my opinion. I like that monsters aren't people. It takes my mind off things."

"Hanging out and having a good time would take your mind off things, too."

Squall lapsed into silence. _No, it wouldn't. It might work for you, but for me it's torture. I don't want to meet new people. I don't want anyone to replace Rinoa. I don't want anyone ever again._

"Yo, Irvy," bounced Zell. "Thanks for the beer. Alright, Squally-baby?"

Squall just glared at him.

"So, good mission?" Zell asked Irvine, unperturbed.

"Yeah, not bad," said Irvine. "You know how it is in Trabia, all so shiny and new you feel scared of touching anything."

"Too right," said Zell, "I know what you… oh, there's Selphie and… wow, who is that with Selphie?"

"Quistis," murmured Irvine with a little smile. _You surpassed yourself this time, Seffie._

Squall looked up with vague interest, and blinked. "Quistis?" he mumbled. "With… hair?"

"She's always had hair, Squall," said Irvine a little impatiently. "Fuck the hair. Look at that dress! She… goes in and out in all the right places."

Squall swallowed hard.

"Hey, Irvy," said Zell excitedly, "d'you think I'd stand a chance if…"

"No!" said Irvine sharply. "Not in a million, Zell. Oh, look, I think that's Xu and she's looking your way. Why don't you go talk to her?"

"Really?" Zell smoothly transferred his attention to Squall's second in command. "I thought she was…"

"Nah," said Irvine. "Just hasn't met the right man yet. Off you go."

Zell frowned. "Then why's she holding hands with that…"

"Hey, guys," Selphie arrived at their table, slapping Quistis' hand sharply when she tried to pull down the right hand side of her dress. There was a hint of triumph in Selphie's eyes.

Squall gave Quistis a little smile, still finding it a little hard to believe this _was_ Quistis, with silky blonde hair falling over her almost bare shoulders, legs that went on forever and… he was fairly sure she had make up on. She looked… great, even Squall couldn't fail to notice that. She smiled back at him, looking vaguely apologetic, for some reason.

Irvine nudged him in the ribs, to add to his confusion. After a bit of meaningful eyebrow wiggling Irvine gave up, however, with a roll of his eyes, and turned his warm and charming smile on Quistis.

"You look great, Quisty," Irvine said, sparing a moment to glare meaningfully at Squall. "Where on earth did you get that dress?"

"Deling," said Quistis, lowering her eyes to the table in front of her, suddenly shy. "It was in a sale, I didn't…"

"… she's been saving it for a special occasion," said Selphie, hurriedly, with a bright smile.

There was a silence, as Quistis glared at Selphie, Squall frowned confusion at Irvine, and Zell looked from one of his friends to the other, and finally over to Xu.

Silence persisted.

"Shall we order food?" Zell said, eventually, much to everyone's relief.

* * * * * * *

As clubs went, Squall had to admit this one wasn't bad. The music was good, and it wasn't too crowded. There were tables to hide at and avoid dancing.

He could almost hear Rinoa protesting at such a thought, telling him he _had_ to dance whether he liked it or not, that it would be a crime for anyone as good looking as him not to dance. His heart hurt with the memory, and he briefly considered getting drunk, but that wouldn't be fair on Irvine and the others. It was their welcome home celebration, after all. Besides, Irvine would notice and lecture him. Again.

"Ask Quistis to dance," hissed Selphie in his ear when they went to the bar.

He shook his head vigorously.

"Oh, you're such a spoilsport," said Selphie, stamping her little foot. "You're so selfish!"

"Hey!" He felt a little offended at that. After all, he was here, wasn't he? However much he might have preferred to try out a new technique he'd thought of on the grats in the training centre…

"Well, can't you see how much she…" Selphie bit her lip, glaring at him in frustration. "… wants do dance?" she finished, lamely.

"Then get Zell to dance with her," said Squall, fiddling with a beer mat, tapping the edge of it on the counter. "He likes dancing."

"But he's crap at it," said Selphie, jerking her head towards the dancefloor, where Zell was showing a remarkable lack of co-ordination for a martial artist. "Quistis deserves better. Oh, go on, Squall. For me?"

Uhoh. The Selphie pleading look.

"No," he said, irritably, trying to catch the bartender's eye. "I don't dance."

"You used to dance with Rinoa!" blurted Selphie.

He flashed a hurt look at her.

"What, we're not allowed to mention her name now?" Something was clearly pissing Selphie off, although for the life of him he couldn't work out what. He felt his own temper rising out of the sharp pain her words caused him. "She's not _dead_, Squall. She left you, is all. Now are you going to get on with your life, or what? Because this is getting old!"

With the calmness that sometimes comes with extreme anger, Squall carefully replaced the beer mat on the counter, turned, and walked away, ignoring Selphie's cries of dismay and repentance.

He would have kept walking, as he intended, right to the door, outside, and home. But something about Quistis' face stopped him. She looked so sad, so wretched. He wasn't stupid, he knew something was going on, even if he couldn't work out exactly what.

So he was selfish, was he? They were fed up with him because he couldn't get over Rinoa?

"Quistis, would you like to dance?" he said, holding out his hand to her.

Her eyes went wide with surprise. Tentatively she reached out to take his hand. "Okay," she said. "If you're…"

He nodded, and gave her a little smile. "Of course," he said.

* * * * * * *

She felt unbelievably good in his arms. She smelt good, she looked good…

He had only intended it to be one dance. Just one. And no touching. But the music changed to a slower beat not long after they got up, and it would have seemed churlish to duck out so soon. So he tried to remember how this worked, holding someone, however loosely, moving with them in time to the music, feeling the sold warmth of their body next to yours...

Damn, but she felt good.

Guilt shot through him, reminding him that it was only six months since Rinoa had left. He choked it down. This was Quistis. They were just friends, it was just a friendly dance, and if he was thinking about her in any way differently than that, it was probably just because he wasn't used to seeing her with her hair loose, wearing a slinky dress. That was all. Just hormones. Nothing to be frightened of.

She smiled at him, her eyes brilliant blue, so different from…

Rinoa was gone. He couldn't live in the past.

What was he thinking? He couldn't… Quistis was his friend, and before she was his friend she was his teacher. Apart from one, fleeting evening in between the two, when she'd taken him to the make out corner of the training centre and…

His cheeks flushed at the memory, not embarrassed by the recollection of Quistis coming on to him, but by his own cold, heartless response. It was a wonder she'd even spoken to him again after that, never mind become one of his closest friends.

Not realising he was doing it, he held her a little closer. Of course, it had been Rinoa who had taught him how to feel any of this; well, Rinoa and Irvine between them.

Rinoa was gone, and she'd hurt him so badly he never wanted to take the chance of it happening again. One night on a dance floor very different to this one, he'd somehow given her the power to hurt him, and he wasn't about to give that power to anyone else.

He didn't understand what any of this meant, Quistis feeling so good while he still felt so bad about Rinoa, Selphie's weird behaviour…

His eyes darted inadvertently to Irvine, back at the table on the edge of the dance floor.

Irvine winked, and everything fell horribly into place. He'd been set up. With Quistis.

He'd nearly fallen for it.

He tensed as a surge of panic and anger threatened to overwhelm him. Only his determination not to hurt Quistis (again) kept him from storming over to Irvine and hitting him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, not willing to look her in the eyes, trying to make it as painless as he could, considering he was about to abandon her completely. "I'm sorry, I can't… I have to go."

He stalked out of the club, not risking a word to anyone this time, barely pausing to snatch his jacket from the back of his chair.

Irvine cursed, and followed him out into the night.

* * * * * * *

"Quistis? Are you okay?"

"Fine, thanks." Selphie watched her in the ladies' room mirror as she pulled a brush through her hair.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, Squall stormed off and…"

Quistis took a deep breath. "He's not over Rinoa, Selphie. I don't know what games you and Irvine think you're playing, but it's cruel and you're hurting him."

"He danced with you."

"Yes," Quistis felt her pulse race at the memory of his body pressed close to hers, the kind look in his eyes when he'd reached out his hand and asked her to dance. "But it doesn't mean anything. We're just friends, Selphie, and that's fine. He needs friends right now."

"It's been six months," said Selphie. "He should be over her."

"That's not for you to decide," snapped Quistis, snatching up her purse and stuffing her hairbrush back inside. "It's up to Squall, and we must be patient."

"But…"

"What if it had been Irvine?" she said.

"What?" Selphie frowned.

"What if Irvine had left you six months ago. Would you be ready?"

Selphie paled at the thought, all the confidence drained from her face. "That's different," she said. "Irvine wouldn't…"

"I'm sure Squall never thought Rinoa would, either. But she did. And it hurt him really, really badly. He'll get over it in his own time, and his own way, or not at all."

"But he can't cope," protested Selphie. "He needs help, he needs…"

"No," said Quistis, firmly. "And while we're on the subject, I'm not ready, either."

"Ready for what?" asked Selphie, cautiously.

"Squall," said Quistis. "Or anyone, come to that. I'm not stupid, Selphie, I know what's been going on. Don't worry," she said, noticing Selphie's downcast face. "I'm not mad at you. I know you and Irvine thought you were helping. And besides, tonight's really helped."

"It has?" A glimmer of hope lit Selphie's eyes.

"It's helped me realise that I'm really not interested in dating, or men. I'm going to concentrate on my career, and enjoy my friends, and probably die an old maid."

"Oh, Quistis!" shrieked Selphie, in horror. "You can't!"

"Watch me," said Quistis, with something cold and determined in her eyes that disturbed Selphie even more than her words.

* * * * * * *

"Hang on there, man, I can't keep up."

Squall ignored him, lengthening his stride a little. But Irvine was lying; his legs were longer than Squall's, he was just as fit, and he could easily keep up with him. It was a transparent attempt to get Squall to say something, anything, and Squall was determined that he wouldn't.

"Squall, I'm sorry, alright? It was a silly idea, I'm sorry it turned out bad. Please come back?"

_Eventually, he'll go away. If I just don't say anything, eventually…_

"Alright, then, I'll walk back to Garden with you."

"Don't. Go back."

_Damn. So much for the silence._

He stopped, and turned to face Irvine, taking in his worried expression, the gentleness in his eyes, the slight smile that crooked his lips, encouraging Squall to talk.

Squall pulled his arm back and punched Irvine in the face, with not far from the full force of his strength.

"Ow! Fuck, Squall! Ow!" Irvine staggered back, tripping as he went to fall on his backside in the dust.

Squall stood there for a moment, fully intending to stalk off into the darkness at any moment, but actually rather shocked with himself.

"Ow," repeated Irvine, wincing as he touched his tender cheekbone, already starting to swell.

"Get off your arse, Irvine," snarled Squall.

"I won't fight you," said Irvine, glaring at Squall from under his hat with unusual ferocity.

Squall reached out his hand. "I know," he said, gruffly. If he was remotely intimidated by Irvine's stare, he didn't show it.

Irvine took his hand a little warily and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"Ow," he added, for good measure.

"Sorry," said Squall. "You pissed me off."

"Well, I'm glad I don't do that often," said Irvine, dusting himself off. "This is about Quistis, right?"

"It's about you interfering in my life," said Squall.

"Someone has to," said Irvine, flippantly. "Or you'd spend every waking hour killing grats in the training centre, and wouldn't have a life at all."

"Which would suit me fine," Squall spat, his eyes smouldering at Irvine, glinting silver in the moonlight.

"That's not true," said Irvine, his voice suddenly quiet and serious. "You'd die inside again. The walls would go up, and you'd be miserable and alone behind them. You know you can't live like that."

"Can't I?"

"Fuck, Squall, why are you so _stubborn_? Why can't you see what you're doing here?"

"I can see! I can see perfectly! I'm not getting hurt, is what."

Irvine's eyes narrowed, and any remnants of his smile faded. "Oh, really?"

Squall looked at the dirt, chewing his lower lip.

"If that's really what you want, Squall, you go find it," Irvine said. "I'm done with it. Build yourself a real high wall, and see if I care. I'm all out of sympathy."

Squall thought for a moment, then raised his head, a question on his lips. But Irvine had already gone.

* * * * * * *

When Squall heard the door chime, he fully expected it to be Selphie. She wouldn't be at all happy that he'd hit Irvine, or that they'd fallen out. If that was what had happened; Squall wasn't altogether sure. Irvine lost his temper so rarely, he never quite believed it when it did happen.

Well, he was doing well here, he reflected. He'd managed to piss Selphie and Irvine off, and reject Quistis, and they'd only been back for a few hours. Soon he wouldn't have any friends left at all, and he could spend all his free time killing grats, and his life would be simple.

Simple, and lonely, and empty.

The door chimed again; he'd been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he'd forgotten about it.

"It's open," he yelled.

The doors slid open, and to his surprise Quistis stood there, looking a little awkward, fiddling with the catch on her purse.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she said. "I wanted to apologise."

"You're not disturbing me," said Squall. "Come in. You want anything? Coffee? Water?"

She shook her head, and stepped just inside the door. "No, thanks. I just…"

"Here, sit down," Squall scooted up the bed to make room for her. "Sorry the chairs are all covered in stuff, I haven't cleared up much since…" _Since Rinoa wasn't here to make me…_

"That's okay." Quistis crossed the room slowly and perched nervously on the edge of the bed.

"I'm really sorry," said Squall, softly. "About running out on you like that."

"It's okay," said Quistis, with a wry grin. "We were pretty much set up, weren't we?"

Squall cringed inwardly, even as he tried to meet her grin with one of his own. "Pretty much," he agreed. "I'm sure they thought they were doing the right thing," he added. He was feeling guiltier about hitting Irvine by the minute.

"I don't think they remember what it's like not to be with the person you care about," she said quietly. "You must still miss Rinoa dreadfully."

He looked sharply at her. It had been a long, long while since anyone had said that to him. Very few people ever had, in fact, mostly just Irvine, in the early days, when he was still pretending not to care about it.

"Not as much as I did," he admitted, for the first time.

"But it still hurts."

He nodded, feeling suddenly very fidgety. He looked around for something to keep his fingers busy, and snatched a pencil off his desk, tapping it into his palm.

"It's okay, Squall, I understand," said Quistis. "I know you don't like me. At least, not in that way."

Fear rose sharply inside him. He didn't want to feel this again. He didn't want…

"… and it's mutual," she added. "You're a dear friend to me, but that's all it is."

He felt suddenly, and unreasonably, disappointed.

"Oh," he said. "I thought… oh."

"I think Selphie and Irvine got a bit carried away, is all. They just want you to be happy. They don't understand that you can't switch feelings on and off like that."

"No," he agreed, the pencil tapping so fast that the coloured tip was a blur.

Quistis was standing up, getting ready to leave.

"That's all I wanted to say. I didn't want there to be any misunderstanding between us. There's been enough fallings out for one night."

He scrambled to his feet, dropping the pencil to the desk with a clatter. "Thanks," he muttered, his thoughts racing, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans for want of something better to do with them, hunching his shoulders forwards and offering her a little smile.

"You're welcome." There was a little spark of affection in her eyes. "Goodnight, Squall."

"Goodnight."

She hugged him, just an ordinary, friendly hug, the sort she gave him from time to time, the sort Irvine had trained him to accept from his friends, whether he thought he enjoyed them or not. He was enjoying this one, he realised. That must be why he didn't want to let go, why he was hugging her back so tightly, why he was burying his face in her hair and holding it there, just for a moment or to longer than strictly necessary, breathing in the scent of shampoo and her perfume, just a trace of rose petals.

It didn't explain why he slowly raised his head, let his eyes drift closed, and kissed her.

Her lips were soft, and after a moment's surprised hesitation she started to kiss him back, gently, her lips parting slightly to admit his tongue. She tasted of cherry lip-balm and lemon drops, and she made a little noise in the back of her throat, a purr, or a sigh. It was nothing like…

Nothing like her at all. This was new, it was Quistis, and it was amazing.

She dropped her purse to the floor and wound both arms around his neck, pressing her body against his, tentatively at first and then, as he tightened his hold around her waist in encouragement, more firmly. His confused brain was clearing at last, and he was realising more with each passing moment exactly what it was he wanted. Who he wanted.

"Squall, I…" she was breathless, her lips moist, lipstick slightly smudged, incredibly sexy. Her eyes were brilliant blue and clear as crystal, intense with desire.

"I thought you said you didn't want…" his trained-for-command brain tried to insist on applying some logic to the situation.

"I lied," she husked, and kissed him again.

It was a blur after that, although he remembered it vividly afterwards. His body asserted needs he'd forgotten existed for the past six months, and he wanted her suddenly, fiercely and with a passion he thought long since buried. He tried to take things slowly, to drag himself away from her to give her some space, to give them both a chance to breathe; he wondered whether he should ask her on a date, or maybe initiate some kind of conversation to show she meant more to him than the physical need she could surely feel, pressing hard against her hip as it was. His thoughts never made it to action; she didn't give him the chance to pull away, and his only attempt at speech came out as "oh, gods, Quistis, I want you," which wasn't quite what he'd planned.

Then her hands were under his shirt, blazing trails of fire across his skin, and he found himself slipping the thin straps of he dress slowly over her shoulders, as if he were unwrapping a gift. Startled by his own boldness, he stopped kissing her for a moment to check her expression; her eyes were half-lidded and she smiled at him, running her tongue over her lips. He was transfixed by her mouth for a moment, so sensual and luscious, and then she was sliding his shirt back off his shoulders. He hadn't even felt her undo the buttons.

He shook the hair out of his eyes and tilted his head to kiss her again, running trembling fingers down her body, the luxurious brush of satin whispering under his touch. His left hand skimmed bare thigh, and he groaned, pushing up the fabric a little to stroke the toned flesh, daring to go a little higher as she melted under his fingers.

It dawned on him that she had a hand on his belt, deftly pulling the leather tab out of it's loop, and that any minute she'd have his jeans undone and… his knees felt suddenly weak; with the confidence and judgement of the fighter he was, he took one blind step backwards, pulling her with him, and fell back to land perfectly on the bed, Quistis on top of him.

She settled comfortably on his body, light as a feather for all her strength and brushed the hair back from his face. She kissed him lightly and pulled herself up, sitting astride him and shuffling back so she could continue to harass his belt. She quickly released it from its clasp and stripped it from his jeans, cracking it once with a wicked grin before dropping it on the floor.

Squall swallowed hard, hoping against hope that he could keep it together long enough that this might last. If she got any sexier he was sure he'd come in his pants, and he was holding out for impressing her a little more than that. But suddenly he was feeling every hour of the six months of imposed celibacy he'd gone through, and Quistis sitting on him, a gorgeous vision of sin in red satin, with whip skills, wasn't helping his stamina any.

She didn't go any further than the belt, though. She leaned down and kissed him again, deeper this time, her soft hair falling in his face, her breasts rubbing lightly against his naked chest. He drifted her dress up her thighs and waist, and when she sat back again he pulled it up and over her head, dropping it to the floor with a sigh.

If Irvine thought she'd looked good in the dress, he should see her like this.

_Actually, no,_ thought Squall, with a sudden surge of possessiveness. _No-one should see her like this, ever again, except me._

Wishing he was articulate enough to tell her this, but frightened of sounding stupid and possibly scaring her away, he ran respectful fingers over her curves, deftly releasing the catch on her bra to reveal her high, firm breasts, full and tipped with rosy-pink nipples. He brushed his thumb across one of them, a shiver of pleasure running through him at the way she arched into his touch. He pulled her down and ducked his head to kiss her breastbone, working his way across her creamy breast to take the other nipple between his lips, flicking lightly at it with his tongue.

This was nothing like Rinoa. Their first time had been all half-innocent fumblings and shy discovery. This was completely different.

It felt comfortable and intense, and above all, right.

"Oh gods, Quistis, I want you…"

Her breath was coming fast, and she kissed him between words. "Want. You. Too. Now. Want. Now."

He helped her with the buttons of his jeans when she got stuck, and raised his hips so she could pull them and his underwear off in one go. The first time she touched his sex, it felt like lightning shooting up his spine. She wrapped her fingers around him gently, reverently, pulling his foreskin down and leaning over, flicking out her tongue to taste him…

He had to stop her. He didn't want to come in her mouth their first time out, and if she'd done that for a second longer he'd have had no choice in the matter.

He pulled her gently back up his body, trying to deepen his breath and let his cock get used to her subtle grip without threatening to explode. He slid a hand inside her panties and found her wet and more than ready for him. Promising himself to conduct a full and proper exploration before morning, he eased the scant white cotton down her thighs. He let her push him back and straddle him again, easing herself down his length, circling her hips as he slid inside her.

She felt wonderfully wet and tight, gripping him with talented muscles, but she was looking down at him with slightly anxious eyes.

"That feels so good," he whispered. "You're… I…"

"Shhh." She raised a finger to her lips, and smiled. "It's okay."

He pulled her down and kissed her, telling her everything with the brush of his lips and the caress of his tongue that he couldn't put into words.

She writhed against him, anxiety gone, brushing her hard nipples against his chest, fitting herself to him to find her pleasure. He reached down with one hand to help her, circling her own tiny hardness with the pad of one finger, trying not to think too hard about the way it made her clench around him so deliciously. She came quickly, shuddering against him, crying out just once, as her pleasure peaked, the pulse of her orgasm squeezing his cock so intensely that he just had to move. Three strokes and it was over; his mind blanked and he was filling her with his cock and his come and her tongue was stroking his as she kissed him, and she was soft and warm and so feminine in his arms, and she was his.

He gasped as she took her mouth from his, trailing kisses down his neck, her fingers running, soothing, though his hair. He wanted to cry, and laugh, and yell, or maybe just dissolve into her warmth forever, and never utter another word.

"You okay?" he whispered, stroking her hair down her back.

"Yes," she breathed, nuzzling just under his ear. "You?"

"Yes," he said, slightly surprised by the fact, but undeniably happy. Very, very happy.

"I don't expect anything," she said.

"You should," he replied, lifting her chin so he could look at her. "And I do. I want to do this again," he said, enthusiastically. "A lot. And… other stuff."

She looked as if she wasn't sure whether to laugh or not.

"I mean," he desperately rallied what was left of his poor brain, "I want to be with you. You and me. Together. Is that okay?"

She hooked a stray strand of her silky blonde hair behind one ear. "Are you asking me out?" she asked. "I'm just checking," she added carefully. "No more misunderstandings, and all."

His face broke into a broad grin. "Yes," he said. "Exactly."

She grinned back.

They grinned at each other foolishly for a while.

"Only," he said, tracing little circles at the base of her spine with one finger, "we don't have to actually go out for a while, do we?"

Her smile turned sultry in a second, snatching his breath away. "No." She started to kiss his neck again, brushing his hair back to expose his ear. "Not until," she nibbled his ear gently, tormenting the lobe with her tongue, "we're very, very hungry. For food."

Squall growled, feeling himself already growing hard again inside her.

"Good," he said.

* * * * * * *

"Irvy, you're not thinking of leaving me, are you?"

"What?" Irvine surveyed his usually happy little ball of sunshine worriedly. "No, of course not, sweetheart. Don't be silly." He kissed her wetly on the nose. "I plain wouldn't work without you."

She giggled at him, wiping her nose on his arm.

"Who put a silly idea like that in your head, babe?"

"Quistis," she said, spooning sugar into her coffee at an alarming rate. "She was trying to explain how it would take Squall longer than six months to get over Rinoa, and she asked how I'd feel if you left me. And I couldn't imagine it, and then I did, and it was horrible." He noticed a persistent trace of uncertainty in her eyes, and squeezed her hand under the table. "We were wrong, weren't we? It is too early for Squall. I'd never get over you, never…"

"That's different, Seffie." He tilted her face towards his, making sure he had her full attention. "We're not like Rinoa and Squall. We're us. We're meant for the long haul. Squall loved Rinoa, sure, but nowhere near, _nowhere_ near how I love you. That's the difference. Alright?"

She nodded.

"Good." He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Now, give me that coffee. You know how you get with too much sugar inside you. Garden isn't ready for it, believe me."

She pushed her cup towards him happily, and gave him a little hug. "Love you, Cowboy."

"That's just as well," said Irvine. "You're stuck with me."

Selphie turned her attention back to her breakfast with a much lighter heart.

"Um… Seffie?"

"Uhuh?" she paused with her spoon full of cereal, and followed his gaze to the cafeteria entrance.

"Fuck," she said.

"Er… Seffie… what's Quistis wearing?"

There was a clatter, as Selphie dropped her spoon. "A shirt," she said. "And jeans."

"Um…"

"_Squall's_ shirt and jeans," squeaked Selphie.

"Wow," said Irvine. "And he's smiling."

"They're_ both_ smiling," said Selphie, clutching Irvine's arm in delight.

Squall and Quistis had spotted them, and were heading for their table.

Irvine welcomed them with a smile nearly as big as Quistis'. "Good morning," he drawled.

"Hi," said Squall, ignoring Irvine's knowing wink. "You got a cure, then."

"Yeah," said Irvine, rubbing his healed cheekbone. "And so did you, apparently."

"Irvine!" said Quistis sternly. "Save that for the locker room. Or wherever guys talk about that kind of thing."

"Take no notice," said Selphie, sliding out of her seat to give Quistis a hug. "Nice jeans. Bit big, maybe, but…"

Quistis glared at her.

"Let's go get some donuts," said Selphie, hooking her arm through Quistis' and leading her off to the counter. "We _are_ celebrating, right?"

Squall watched Quistis go, finding it hard to take his eyes off her.

"So, um… things are better, huh?" said Irvine.

Squall wrenched his attention back to his friend. "Yeah," he said, grinning foolishly.

"I'm pleased for you," said Irvine. "And sorry about last night."

"That's okay." Squall looked a little sheepish. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"Are you on for showing me those new grat moves in the training centre after breakfast, then?"

"Oh yeah," said Squall, happily. "I did this thing yesterday, where I line ten up at a time, and…" he found his eyes dragged away from Irvine and back to queue at the counter, where Selphie was whispering something into Quistis' ear that made her blush. He felt fiercely protective all of a sudden, and had to fight down an urge to go and make sure Selphie wasn't teasing her too mercilessly. He tried to pick up his train of thought. "I line them up and… yeah, it was… hmmm," he tailed off.

"You sure?" Irvine asked, casually stirring patterns in the sugar bowl with his spoon.

"Well," said Squall, "on second thoughts…. I might have something else to do. Could we take a rain check?"

"Of course. Grats lost their appeal, huh?" Irvine grinned.

"Yeah," said Squall, his eyes fixed firmly on Quistis. "You know, I think maybe you were right about that, all along."

Irvine just smiled.


End file.
